


Slipping In My Faith Until I Fall

by AccidentalAvenger



Series: Read My Mind [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Mind-reader!Enjolras, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 10:13:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3116303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccidentalAvenger/pseuds/AccidentalAvenger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras can read minds and Grantaire finds out. The last thing he needs is Enjolras inside his already messed up head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slipping In My Faith Until I Fall

**Author's Note:**

> So here's a short chapter. There's more to come once I finished my exams I promise but yes I'm definitely continuing this.   
> (Don't worry I'll change the summary)

It's pouring with rain but Grantaire barely notices. He just runs, almost slipping on the wet pavement but he doesn't care. His mind is filled with only panic. He can barely see due to his soaked curls and his clothes are soaked through but it doesn't matter. All Grantaire knows is he has to get away.

The logical part of Grantaire's mind knows that he must be wrong; that mind reading is impossible. It tells him to stop, to turn back and return to the café. But there's a larger part of his mind, an instinctual part which keeps bringing up the image of Enjolras' deliberate cough, the way the blue eyes had stared so intensely at Grantaire. It had been on purpose - Grantaire just knows that. And the idea of Enjolras being able to read his mind terrifies him. 

It isn't the mind-reading part. Grantaire can't quite process the whole 'someone can read minds, holy shit that's creepy' bit yet - his mind hasn't quite got to that point. It's more the Enjolras part of the equation. No wonder Enjolras hates him; anyone who saw inside Grantaire's mind would hate him. Grantaire hates himself enough. And if Enjolras could read minds, well, then he must know how Grantaire felt about Enjolras. The thought of the blond man laughing at him makes his stomach churn and he has to stop and bend over in case he's sick. 

That's when Enjolras catches up to him, also without a coat but he doesn't look at all bedraggled or affected. God, he looks handsome in the rain and that's just unfair. Enjolras stops beside him, breathing heavily and looks down at Grantaire with an expression of pity. He's still bent over, feeling like he's about to puke. Enjolras reaches out a hand but Grantaire flinches away. The pitiful expression turns to one of hurt but Grantaire is too much of a wirlwind of emotion to care about Enjolras' wounded feelings. 

"Please tell me I'm wrong." 

The words are a plea, almost lost in the noise of the rain and wind. Grantaire's usually uncontrollable hair is plastered to his forehead and he's sure he looks pathetic but he can't bring himself to care. The fear is making him to dizzy to worry about the fact he's soaked to the skin; the fear of being wrong and of having to explain how deluded and paranoid he really is or the fear that he's right and that Enjolras knows everything - every weakness, every failing, every terrible thought and all his obsessions. 

If he's right then it's no wonder Enjolras hates him. 

Enjolras' shoulders drop and he looks away, biting his lip. Eventually he looks back to Grantaire with the intense, open expression he sometimes uses when he talks the Combeferre sometimes. It's stupid because Grantaire is literally shaking but he can't but feel a rush of heat at the way Enjolras looks at him, standing under the lamplight in the pouring rain. It's ridiculous how majestic he looks. Grantaire knows he looks like a drowned cat while Enjolras is still a perfect Apollo.

Finally Enjolras speaks. "I can't. I'm sorry." 

Grantaire gets it. He was right. There's momentary relief that he isn't delusional, that's he's not going mad and then the horror of the situation floods through him. It's no wonder that Enjolras is so distainful of him, that he looks down on him. Grantaire doesn't want to be in his own head most of the time, let alone inflict every pathetic part of him on someone else. He's already always ashamed of how weak he is and his only defense was to hide it but now he can't. And out of all the people who find out, of course it's Enjolras. Enjolras who, as far as Grantaire can see, is perfect. Enjolras, who Grantaire thinks about a lot. Enjolras, who can read his mind and knows everything Grantaire has that he hates about himself. 

Grantaire isn't blinking, to focused on the feeling of panic clawing up his throat and his chest contracting. He can barely remember how to breathe and he's scared that if he closes his eyes for a moment the world will fall away from him. He's dizzy and might be sick. He's terrified, not of Enjolras; he still can't focus on the impossibility of mind-reading, but of himself and what that means. It means that Enjolras knows every disgusting thought, every messed-up feeling - he's just found out that everything he's tried to hide over the years is known and the shame and horror he's feeling makes his head spin. He wants to sit down. He wants to get as far away as possible as soon as he can. Grantaire is disgusted, at himself, and he wishes that he didn't exist. 

A hand reaches out to gently touch his shoulder and Grantaire flinches back, panic filling his mind.

"R?" Enjolras says gently, his voice sounding concerned. He looks like an angel, the soft yellow light of the streetlight catching his hair and the rain drops around him. There's something fuzzy about the whole picture, a softness that's a horrible contrast to the sharp, cold thoughts that are whirling through Grantaires head. 

"Don't touch me," Grantaire spits out, pushing any thoughts of how Enjolras looks from his mind as fast as he can. Enjolras drops his hand instantly, like he's been stung. The words come out sharper than he means and he tries to remedy it, to wipe away the offended expression from Enjolras' face.  
"Please, just don't touch me," he says, his voice pleading and embarrassingly desperate, "I have to go."  
"Grantaire," Enjolras steps forwards, looking pained. Grantaire stumbles back and shakes his head and Enjolras stops. He bites his lip, looking at Grantaire in a way that makes his heart rise in his throat.  
"I have to go," Grantaire repeats and forces himself to turn away. He bows his head and walks quickly, hoping that the cold night air will help clear his cluttered, swirling mind.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to portray what Grantaire is actually thinking so any thoughts about worthlessness are an expression of how he feels. Sorry, it's a bit jumbled and short. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated. Your feedback/ideas are awesome as well :)


End file.
